No. 8. SATURDAY, March 26, 1785. TO THE AUTHOR OF THE LOUNGER. Edinburgh, March 2. * I AM greatly pleased, Mr Lounger, with your account of yourself, and your innocent and useful manner of sliding through the bustle of life. I sincerely wish that many of my friends and visitors would follow your example, and learn to be idle, without disturbing those who are obliged, from their situation, to be busy. I suffer daily so much from the intrusion * The last part of this paper only was written by me; the letter signed Mary Careful was sent by a correspondent, whom I had reason to believe a female one, but could never, with any certainty, discover who she was.- -H. M. of a set of female Loungers, (forgive me for using your title,) that it has prompted me to address myself to you, in hopes that you will, in some of your future essays, teach my unfortunately idle friends how to employ their tedious forenoons, without obliging me to be as idle as themselves. But to make you, Sir, fully sensible how much I suffer from ladies who cannot kill time at home, I must inform you, that I am the wife of a gentleman whose fortune has been made by a steady application to a branch of business, that obliges both him and me to be extremely attentive to those who employ him. A family of seven children makes it necessary for him still to continue in business. Our sons are attending such branches of education as will fit them for the different employments they have chosen. Our three daughters I am attempting to educate under my own eye, as the present boarding-schools and governesses are much too expensive for people of our moderate fortune. I find so much pleasure in superintending every part of my daughters' education, that not an hour of the day is unemployed, or can hang heavy on my hands: But alas, Sir, how cruelly teazing is it, when I am set down to hear my youngest girl read, with Eliza and Mary at their work seated by me, to be broke in upon by Miss Flounce, who comes to tell me how charmingly she has improved upon Lady Chenille's new trimming, and assures me her bottle-green sattin was the sweetest and most admired dress at last assembly. Then, without observing that she interrupts me by her stay, she proceeds to give me an account of all the different dresses that she took hints from, to convince me how much her superior taste has improved upon that of her companions. When I am just expecting the conclusion of her uninteresting narration, her cousin Miss Feathers swims into the room, assures us she is happy to find us together, that she may tell us how Mrs Panache had almost fainted away on seeing her new Figaro hat, with a plume of feathers in a much higher taste than her own. This introduces a smart dispute between the ladies, whether plain or Figaro feathers are the most elegant and becoming. They at last agree to refer their dispute to Miss Tastey, and leave me in haste to obtain her decision. I gladly resume my pleasing task, but find that Eliza has misplaced the colours in shading a violet, and Mary broke her needle, by attending too much to the ladies' conversation. I have, perhaps, got matters adjusted, and little Anne has read half a page, when in totters Mrs Qualm. This lady, though always sick, is still able to come abroad every day, and wearies her acquaintance with the detail of her numberless complaints. A whole hour |